


That which guides you

by NotesFromTheVoid



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other, POV Second Person, Voidpunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 10:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotesFromTheVoid/pseuds/NotesFromTheVoid
Summary: You can never see it, only feel it





	That which guides you

The hand that leads you is just on the edge of being cold. Maybe it was cold but the warmth of your hand transferred to it? No, it was always this strange paradoxical temperature. While some unknown compulsion forces your eyes shut, you know you are in a forest, or at least you were when this journey began, and the air still contains that woody petrichor, and the ground is still rough, but not so rough that you have trouble finding a place to land each step. Your guide who you trust without knowing why, maybe because you have no choice keeps journeying onward, until at last the air changes to a fresher taste given by the slightest of a breeze, and your leg are brushed by long grasses, or maybe grassy flowers, made damp from a cool dew. You unknown guide lowers you too your knees, then guides you forward. Each step causes the fabric of your clothes to slowly soak in water and you realise you are being lead into a stream or river, and that you haven't heard a single footstep from the being you follow. You try to open your eyes, but are unsurprised when they do not. You stop when the water reaches your waste, flowing around you. You kneel there for an amount of time that could be minutes or hours. Your body feels slightly dizzy, distant, almost incorporeal as you feel the cool water swirl and move as you are fixed in place. Do not despair. For this journey is not yet over.

You've been kneeling there for what seems like hours, though you suppose the exact amount of time matters little. What does matter, is though the water flows past and around your knees and thighs, and though it makes you shiver and ache, you do not move. The thought does not occur to you to move before your faceless guide leads you to do so. Your eyes are still closed, but you somehow know that that what you follow is neither human nor has what you would recognise as an identity. Maybe they do have one, but if it's there it's neither singular nor separate from a greater whole. You wonder briefly how you know this, but whatever power told you will not reveal itself just yet. Eventually you a pulling on your hand and arm raises you to your feet, and you begin to move once more. You're moving upstream, though the flow of the current does not significantly impede your process. Eventually the air seems to become still and you sense you have entered some kind of enclosed space. You step out of the water, though in a sense you do not leave it. Your shadow guide runs what seems like a finger down your spine. You shudder, and your clothes seem to change. Your t-shirt lengthens into a shapeless robe and your jumper's weight shifts into a cape. The shadow guide ties a strip of fabric over your eyes, though your eyes have never opened. You're still not quite sure how to refer to it? Them? Xym? Faer? Regardless. They lead on, taking you through not quite uneven ground. You sense you are nearing your destination, but the purpose of this journey still eludes you.

You aren't sure if the Guide has any physicality at all any more. You feel your arm pulled forward, but searching for any pressure on your hand leads to inconclusive results. Still, you are sure that you can't leave, or at the very least won't, whatever force has been instructing you is stronger here, like if a shadow could hold you. The path slopes downwards, until you come to a stop. The air is less still here, though it could not quite be called a breeze. Your hands move so they cross over your chest, and some thin rope is tied around them, firmly, but not so tight as to be uncomfortable. You are guided to turn around on the spot, and you lean back, being held by the rope. Slowly, slowly you become horizontal, until the loosest parts of your cloak hit water, and you are held like that, for just a few moments. Then you are lowered onto the water completely. You are not wet, the cloak acts as some kind of paradoxically soft raft, protecting you from the cool dampness. You hear a splash as the rope is thrown over your shoulder. Your guide grips one of your hands, and begins to whisper. You cannot quite hear what is said but you do understand. You almost feel like crying. Not out of fear or despair, but the shadowy pressure is almost suffocating in here. But you lean into it, take the comfort in it's unknowable hold. It won't be unknowable much longer. You realise you have sunk beneath the water's surface, but no breath seems to be hindered, at least no more than on the surface. You realise you could open your eyes now, but just wait a little more. You're still adjusting, and there's no hurry.


End file.
